Tag Archives: family

Vacation and a Wedding

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Despite the crazy circumstances leading up to our vacation/wedding trip to the Outer Banks, I think I can file it away in my memory as pretty fabulous.

I got to see my little ones see the ocean for the first time, to dip their toes in the water and dig up sand with their hands and shovels. Libbie got great kicks out of waiting by the water until the wave rolled in and then scurrying away from it up the beach. Her leg muscles are obviously in much better shape than mine!

I always enjoy seeing my parents and my sister love on the kiddos. The kids love it, too! They adore Nana, Poppy, and “Ashy-Roo.”

I was amazed at how much Libbie loved exploring the historical Roanoke Island site we went to. I wasn’t sure I would be able to drag her off the ship!

And to top it off, I got to be in the wedding of my very best friend, my soul sister, and get reacquainted with friends from college. We’ve vowed to not let it be so long between visits the next time!

Somehow, I have no pictures of me in my bridesmaid’s dress! I thought it was quite pretty and I loved my hair and make-up.

This week we’ve been in recovery mode, I think, from all the travel and moving. I am flat-out exhausted. As soon as I pull this apartment into shape, though, I’ll share pictures – especially of Libbie’s precious pink butterfly room.

When You Can’t Bring Yourself to Throw Away a Scrap of Paper

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boxes!
source: awhiskandaspoon

We’re in the midst of moving once again, and in the repacking I just found a tub of miscellani that definitely had not been unpacked since we moved from Nashville, two and a half years ago.

Which of course begs the question: when is it time to let go?

It was mostly framed pictures, a few from our wedding and a few of friends not spoken to for years. Falling-apart frames and ones with itty-bitty pictures glued around the outside. Frames proclaiming the year 2004 and “i do!”

No longer newlyweds – our 8-year anniversary is in July – is it time to let these things pass on to younger thrift-store shoppers? I removed some of the pictures from frames, tucking them into albums, posting them to Facebook for a smile.

Some photos caused me to pause, like the one of my best friend’s mother dancing with exhilaration at my wedding. My friend is marrying in July – I am in her wedding as she was in mine – and her mom won’t be there. She succumbed to ovarian cancer three years ago.

And that thought makes me cling to the pieces of the box, wondering if there will come a time when I wish I hadn’t thrown away the slip of paper with a Chinese take-out order on it in my own mother’s handwriting. What if I need that piece of her? What if I bemoan the loss of a vanilla candle, a stuffed toy, a piece of newspaper in the coming months?

Why is it so difficult to part with “stuff”?

I so long for simplicity and vapidly declare my intention to weed out half of our belongings during this across-campus move. In my head, I believe it. But tugs of my heart won’t let me toss the loopy cursive of my mommy in the trash can.

Gluten-Free Snack Night

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Oh, snack night. You are so good. You fueled my love for dips and appetizers and caused me to eat many a mozzarella stick or jalapeno popper.

Since I was a little girl, my family would occasionally break all the rules and have snack night. It was a must for New Year’s Eve, but any night could become a special occasion with plates of appetizers and a game of Trivial Pursuit.

Last week I was in Pennsylvania with my parents, my sister, and my kids. It’s kind of strange being without my husband. I feel that I revert to some former, surly, teenaged version of myself, despite the fact that I have two small children. I guess it’s just playing the roles that we had until the time when I left home.

Anyway, we decided to have a snack night Friday—with the only update being that my sister has been eating gluten-free since January. I’m proud of her for keeping it up; she really feels much better. And since we try to support her and not “lead her to temptation,” we made a completely gluten-free snack night.

So while I am not a gluten-free girl, I know many people who are and I wanted to share the fantastic snacks we had. Maybe you can use them for a snack night of your own!

Chive and Onion Deviled Eggs

Sausage Cheese Balls

Potato Skins [We used bacon instead of chorizo and regular baking potatoes]

Mexican Corn Dip

 

Love Loss Hope Repeat.

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Night Time Sky
source: Craighton Miller

I’ve never lost a son, but I know two women who have. Both dear, both young, both undeserving of that kind of pain.

In One Thousand Gifts, Ann Voskamp writes that perhaps those tears in the canvas of our life ― the places where we are raw and hurt and wonder Why God? ― are the places where we can see Him most clearly. If we choose. I think those are also the places we can try to patch up with tar and feathers, using scathing words against the One who allowed those rips in the first place.

I think of another mother, a very young one, who wondered why she was going to have a son. I have been there, although unlike Mary, I was not a teenager nor unmarried. But I’ve flipped those flashcards around in my head, too: Why me? What am I going to do with a son? Am I ready for this? Will I ruin him? Scar him for life?

Those perhaps not rips but puckers, places where we’ve doubted the goodness, the grace, the all-knowingness of a Heavenly Father.

We have a second son, a Compassion child, who lives in the scattered islands of the Philippines. Does his mother wonder, too? Why so many? Why so little to work on? Is she embarrassed to have to reach out to help support her children?

All different tears in varying stages. I’m sure at one time or another, we’ve all asked the same questions in different wording, different languages.

Do we see God in the pain? I imagine my heart with tiny pin-pricks straight through, some larger than others … and a flashlight shining from behind, revealing stars. There’s something about stars, isn’t there? Hope. Vastness. Waves of feeling the universe.

I want to swim in the pools of light instead of hiding in the shadows. Finding myself closer to the Comforter, the Giver, whether I feel He is those things at that moment or not. 

Because He is in there, somewhere.

At Christmas, I miss those two unknown men who were lost, my uncle and brother-in-law. I reflect on the hurt of their mothers. And I pray extra-hard that God will seep through the holes and continue to heal, twenty or forty years later, with the promise of glory-to-come.

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For Libby

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I don’t want to be a grown-up
when it means having to grow up,
to do things like bury grandparents,
sort four people’s laundry,
feel pain over a credit score.

I thought I’d feel grown-up
when I was married
when I had a baby
when I had two.

Inching near thirty, I wonder
Do you ever feel grown up?
I wish that I could ask her
if, at 80, laying on her death-bed
did she feel like a grown woman?

Or still like the young auburn girl
who swung do-si-do
married a dashing veteran
raised babies with chicken-on-the-bone.

I hate myself for not asking
for more of the story,
and I hate myself for fearing
that she wouldn’t remember.

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Faithfully My Name is Called Each Night*

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Mama’s Losin’ It

For many years but especially since I had children, I’ve asked my parents many times what they did to me when I was a teenager. What did they do to make me not ever want to do anything bad?

I’m not saying I was a perfect or model teenager. But I never fell away from my faith in a drastic way, I did not smoke or drink, or have sex, or really even have a great desire to do any of these things. Yes, I did have the first-child syndrome of wanting to please my parents immensely. But I know many oldest children who did not take the narrow road.

For years, my parents would respond that they had no idea what they did. My mom tended to credit our youth pastor. Sometimes they claimed that strong-willed chilren became teens who didn’t bow to peer pressure.

Only recently did my dad finally respond, “Well, your mom prays. A lot.”

My college. My husband. My children. My ability to stay at home. All things I know my mother has prayed fervently over.

Mom is a bit of a worrier … but she turns that into prayer, the right solution for worry. And I believe she’s taught me to do the same thing. Every joy, every pain, every struggle, almost always my first reaction is to speak to my Jesus.

Oh, how glad I am that He always listens.

One of the most important things I’ve ever learned is that if it concerns me, it concerns Him. He loves me that much.

And I believe it’s a lesson my mother taught me well.

Title is from the song “Mama’s Prayers” by Elizabeth Cook, whom I love!

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10 Things That Help Me Survive Pregnancy

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Well, friends, I am getting down to the wire (I HOPE!). On Wednesday I will be 39 weeks. Most of the time I feel like death. It is not a pretty picture.

But on a happier and hopefully helpful note, here are ten things that help me survive pregnancy. Whether you’re a happy preggo (and thus I hate you) or more on my side of “my body hates being pregnant,” these essentials can help you make it all 40 weeks!

1. Snoogle

Leachco Snoogle Total Body Pillow 

I have intended to write a poem/haiku/ode to my Snoogle, but as that hasn’t happened I will just say this is the ONLY way I generally sleep during pregnancy. The piece that goes between your legs helps align your back, and it gives me something to cuddle with. I don’t know why it’s magical, but it is!

2. Once-a-month/batch/freezer cooking

Although doing a complete once-a-month menu is nearly impossible for me when I am pregnant, I have done several mini sessions that help me keep the freezer somewhat stocked. It’s totally worth a few hours’ work to have meals for a week or two!

3. Decent maternity clothes

I literally have six of this shirt at this point (all different colors). So even if I can’t find any maternity pants, I have tops. For me, these particular shirts are comfy, not revealing, and actually cover my belly, even when I am full-term. And … let’s just say the length seems to balance out “the girls” when I am nursing as well.

4. My mom

My moms flies from Philadelphia to wherever I am several times when I am pregnant, and she’s coming WEDNESDAY!!! to help me not kill take care of Libbie and get my house in order. She’s also mentioned stocking my freezer with meals from my Whole Foods in a Hurry menu. I don’t know what I would have done without her when I had Libbie, and I hope she will be right there in the room when David is born, too!

5. My sisterchicks

These girls have put up with a lot from me over the last several months, and they haven’t yet blocked me from our Skype room. One of them is always there to give advice or just a listening ear to my latest complaint. I love you, girls!

6. Good bath products – I am a bath junkie, even during my “regular” life. But during these last few weeks of pregnancy I could basically live in my bathtub. It is a big jacuzzi tub, although I don’t use the jets. But I fit in it, so that’s nice. And nice bath oils go a long way to making a girl feel good and less like a hippo. My best friend got me this pregnancy bath set from Uncommon Goods for an early Christmas present, and I love the milk bath and oils!

7. PBS

I do not love the amount of TV that Libbie is now accustomed to watching. But there are days–especially lately–where I just cannot get off the couch. (And at the beginning when I was super sick, it was the same.) I have an appreciation for PBS now! Libbie likes Sesame Street, Curious George, and Sid the Science Kid. We watch Play with Me Sesame almost every day (from PBS Sprout) and an occasional Chloe’s Closet as well.

8. Sonic

I hate to even admit this, but nothing tastes better than an icy-cold Sonic drink during happy hour when you’re pregnant. Especially when there is nothing in the whole wide world you want to eat. Cranberry limeade is my drug of choice.

9. A really good child.

SNV30001

Libbie does drive me crazy some days, but seriously? She is SUCH a good kid. She plays independently. She doesn’t throw temper tantrums, usually. She helps me get things and throw things away and puts away her toys … if asked. For being just 2, she is actually helpful, caring, and sweet.


10. What helps you survive pregnancy? I’d love to know for next time oh please help I can’t even think about a next time.

Added to Top Ten Tuesday at OhAmanda.

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Music, Our Wedding, Thanksmas, and My Secret Desire to Play the French Horn

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Piano

source: emilianohorcada

I come from a family of musicians, mostly on my dad’s side. As long as I can remember we’ve gathered  after the “Thanksmas” meal and sang Christmas carols. (We’ve been known to sing in five part harmony: soprano, alto, tenor, bass, and Grandpa.)

Dad played the trumpet and piano. My mom, the clarinet. Uncle Tom plays a multitude of instruments, among them the euphonium. My grandmother was a piano teacher. My sister plays the violin (and sings like a true opera diva).

Me? I sing. I have dreams of mastering the French horn; but Mr. V discourages them greatly, saying it’s the worst instrument to listen to someone learn to play.

When it came time to decide on music for our wedding, I knew I wanted family members to sing.

My sister and a friend from college sang “The Prayer” in English and Italian. As Mr. V and I knew we would be picking up and moving 600 miles away directly after our honeymoon, we thought the lyrics were especially appropriate:

Let this be our prayer
As we go our way
Lead us to a place
Guide us with Your grace …

I also asked my Aunt Jennie, Uncle Tom, cousin Laura, and Uncle Steve – all members of the infamous Thanksmas carolers of my dad’s side – to sing “For the Beauty of the Earth.” You want to know why, truly?

Because I love the part in Little Women where they sing it at Meg’s wedding and are all circled around the gazebo.

Granted, it was in the movie because it IS a classic wedding hymn. As I will still claim is the reason we had it.

What I didn’t know when I asked was that my uncle, the euphonium player, would make a new arrangement of the hymn, just for my wedding. It makes me feel like the Queen of Sheba. I can still see the four of them standing in the front of the church, beautiful harmonies melding, as I waited to walk down the aisle.

Nearly six years have passed since our wedding day – six years next Saturday, to be precise. And both of those songs still move me to tears. Which makes me think we made the right choice: in each other, and in our wedding music.

 

Inspired by Weekly Writing Prompts at Mama Kat’s Losin’ It.

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A Few Awkward Pictures … and Oh, Happy Mother’s Day!

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Happy Mother’s Day to my mom, who put up with me as an insanely precocious child …

… a shy, painful teenager who wore fanny packs …

… and as a wacky, medicated adult who still calls her mommy and cries because she wishes Mommy lived closer …

(image by Leisa Hammett)
It’s a good thing I gave her a really cute granddaughter to make up for it all.

Happy Mother’s Day!

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